From One Professor to Another
by kci47
Summary: Hermione discovers a side to Neville Longbottom that she never knew existed—and it's all thanks to Pansy Parkinson. HG/NL, NL/PP. Written for the 2015 Rare Pair Fest on hprarefest at livejournal. Thanks to Amorette for the lovely prompt! Warning(s): Voyeurism, explicit language, spanking.


**Written for the hprarefest on lj. Reveals are up so here is my contribution.**

 **Prompt:** 4 by **amorette** : Spanking with a dominant Neville who has grown into himself and is really confident and in control. Maybe he's still the old Neville normally, but then when things get heated, he just becomes badass!dominant!Neville. I don't know how Neville ends up spanking either girl, but please make it dirty as all fuck.  
 **Pairing(s):** Neville/Pansy and Neville/Hermione  
 **Word Count:** 5,168ish  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warning(s):** Voyeurism, explicit language and sex, spanking  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
 **Notes:** Amorette, thank you for such a great prompt! I wanted it as soon as I read it. I hope I've done it justice. And thank you to my first-time beta reader husband—any remaining mistakes are most certainly his. (Ha, ha.)  
 **Summary:** Hermione discovers a side to Neville Longbottom that she never knew existed—and it's all thanks to Pansy Parkinson.

* * *

"Neville, do you have a minute to help me with—" Hermione stumbled to a stop just inside the door to Neville's sitting room, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open. Apparently, Neville hadn't answered her cursory knock because he was busy. _Quite_ busy. In fact, Hermione reflected numbly, his hands were very, very full indeed.

Not far in front of her, Pansy Parkinson's pert breasts bounced freely as she rode Neville's cock, her head thrown back in pleasure. The couple hadn't noticed her arrival, or else they didn't care, because neither one acknowledged her presence. Hermione wanted to turn away, but her eyes were drawn to Neville's nearly-nude form sprawled out on a chaise. His hands clasped Pansy's rounded derriere, and Hermione noted with interest that two Slytherin school ties dangled from his wrists. As her perusal went lower, she realized that his ankles were still tied to the legs of the chaise, preventing him from contributing much to the thrusting action. She'd had no idea that Neville had such...proclivities. Now she felt her cheeks heat and her eyebrows raise to dangerous heights, but really—couldn't they have at least locked the door? For Godric's sake, it was three o'clock in the afternoon. Anyone could have walked in.

"I'll just come back, er, later," Hermione offered feebly. Still the couple made no notice of her, so Hermione told herself to back out of the room quietly. However, her feet would not obey. She remained rooted to the spot, her eyes drawn once again to Pansy's merrily-bobbing breasts. Neville let out a moan that had heat rushing to places on Hermione's body that hadn't perked up in _months._ Ashamed of her reaction, she once again tried to leave, but it seemed that her body had decided to override her mind.

Oh, who was she kidding? Her mind wanted to watch, too.

"Not yet," Pansy panted, lowering her chin and glancing down at Neville. Neville's eyes closed and he moaned again, much more loudly this time.

"Hurry up, Pans," he murmured.

Pansy rose up on her knees, drawing herself up until Neville's cock must barely have remained inside her. Hermione found her head tilting to sneak a peek and quickly jerked it straight again.

"You know the rules," Pansy hissed, leaning over Neville's upper half to put her face close to his. "Play along, or you'll get punished again."

"I'm sorry," Neville gasped, straining to push himself back inside of her. "Please, Pansy, please may I come soon?"

"That's better," Pansy informed him before sheathing him again in one quick move. Neville groaned again, his fingers flexing against her rump. "Alright, you've been a good boy. Spank me, Longbottom," she commanded.

Hermione knew her mouth was simply hanging open at this point, and she would probably be at the receiving end of a nasty hex when Pansy realized she was watching like a complete pervert, but she couldn't seem to stop. She was so fascinated by Pansy's domineering attitude and Neville's apparent subservience. Then a sharp slap rang out, and Hermione's eyes dropped to Pansy's arse while Neville spanked her quite vigorously. Hermione shifted restlessly, wishing she had worn something less restrictive. Even in the summer months, when the activity in the castle slowed and the students were gone, she dressed professionally in her long robes and slacks. Now, however, she found herself very overheated.

"Harder, Professor," Pansy shouted, rocking against Neville faster and faster. Soon Pansy was fucking Neville in time with the smacks to her arse, the pale skin of which had reddened considerably. Still Hermione watched, resigned to stay until they noticed her or their episode concluded, whichever came first. Looking at Neville's face, however, she rather thought _he_ was most likely to "come first".

"Please, Pansy," he begged her, spanking her firmly with both hands.

"Almost there," she answered, reaching down with one hand and gripping Neville's hair, forcing him to tilt his head and look up at her. She drove herself up and down on him once, twice, again; then she shouted, "Now!" and closed her eyes as she screamed her release. Neville, too, was shouting something incomprehensible; his hips bucking to the best of their ability as his climax hit him.

It was as though their orgasms had lifted her paralysis. Hermione shifted backwards until she was—hopefully—hidden in the shadowy alcove by the door. Taking quick stock of herself, she realized that her nipples were hard and there was an uncharacteristic wetness between her thighs. And, perhaps worst of all, she was now harboring a _very_ detailed image of Neville Longbottom as he came. She would have to examine her feelings later, however, because right now she needed to know if she'd been caught. Listening carefully, she heard Neville murmuring something to Pansy.

"—know I needed it." She leaned forward just a bit, hoping to hear better and wishing she could cast a nonverbal amplification spell.

"You're welcome, Longbottom," Pansy replied. Hermione heard a great deal of rustling and then, to her horror, a clothed Pansy rounded the corner and nearly mowed Hermione down. "Well hello, Granger," she drawled as she quickly took in Hermione's attire. Pansy's own dress was low-cut, skintight, and showed off her curves to maximum effect.

Hermione did her best not to look guilty at the fact that she'd seen Pansy _without_ her dress. "Hi, Pansy," she answered, cursing internally when her voice sounded slightly breathless. Pansy gave her a knowing smirk and brushed past her to the door, turning to call back, "You might want to give Neville a minute. He's just a bit...tied up at present." Pansy winked and then flounced out of the door, leaving Hermione alone in the alcove and wishing she had just made her escape the moment she'd realized what was going on.

"Hermione?" Neville's voice carried over to the alcove, and Hermione straightened her shoulders before marching into the room, her textbook clasped protectively over her chest. Thankfully, Neville was _not_ still restrained to the chaise, although he _was_ in the act of pulling his shirt back on. Hermione caught a tantalizing glimpse of his surprisingly toned abdominal muscles as he flexed; then the oxford was back in place and he was doing up the buttons. The sensuality of the moment made her mouth dry, and Hermione struggled to bring her thoughts back to why she'd initially come here.

"Hi, Neville," she chirped. Drat it—her voice still sounded squeaky. She rambled on, "I'm sorry if this is a bad time. I had a question for you about some plants that we're using in Potions next year, but I can come back later, or maybe I just need to revisit the Herbology section in the library. Actually, I don't know why I didn't think of that before, I almost always go to the library first. I'll just—"

"Whoa," Neville interrupted, holding up his hands. He smiled at her, a genuine smile, and Hermione's nipples tightened even further. She blushed. Oblivious, Neville went on, "It's no trouble. How can I help you?"

 _You can take that shirt back off and spank me, too,_ an inner voice cried out. A throb low in her groin told Hermione that her body was in agreement. Hermione mentally shushed her heretofore unknown trollop-y tendencies and shook her head to regain some clarity.

"Oh, well, it's this potion here." She flipped to the proper page in her text and moved towards Neville. He came towards her, as well, tilting his head to look down over her shoulder. Every cell in her body seemed to spring to attention, all attuned to his every breath and his very close proximity.

 _Stop it,_ she ordered herself. _You've been this close to Neville numerous times before. It's just Neville!_

But certain parts of her anatomy refused to listen, and Hermione spent the next twenty minutes of discussion with Neville in a heightened state of arousal. His scent kept wafting over to her, the lushness of the greenhouses where he spent most of his time mingling with the sheen of sweat that he'd just worked up. With his hands and feet tied by Pansy Parkinson, of all people.

"—anything else?"

Hermione jerked her attention back to the present. Neville was looking at her curiously, no hint of knowledge that she'd seen him with the Slytherin girl lurking. Hermione cleared her throat and shook her head. "Um, no, that should do it. Thank you." She snapped the book closed and scurried for the door, turning at the last second to say something else. She nearly smacked into Neville. He must have followed her to the doorway.

"If you need some help later, just let me know," Neville offered, leaning a forearm against the doorjamb above their heads and smiling casually.

"Oh. Yes. I will. Let you know, that is, not need help—well, I might need help, I'm obviously not quite sure yet, since—" She forcefully bit down on her lip to stem the flow of words.

"See you later then," Neville offered, clearly waiting for her to get out of his doorway. A small V of neck and collarbone was visible at the top of his shirt, and it made Hermione want to be bold.

"Would you want to come up for a drink later?" she asked. "I have some Ogden's that a parent gave me last term."

A dimple appeared when Neville grinned. "Want me to ruffle you up a bit, eh?" he asked, laughing when Hermione's eyes widened. "Don't worry about it, Professor Granger. You'll get over the shock soon." With that, he winked at her and gently shut the door.

Staring at the aged wood in front of her face, Hermione felt her cheeks flame. So he _had_ known. Gods, how embarrassing.

Worse yet was that according to the rest of her body, yes she did want to be 'ruffled up'. Very much.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur of activity as Hermione finished her lesson plans for the next semester and the staff geared up for the annual Board of Governors gala in a few days. They opened the castle up for the Governors, their families, Ministry officials, and some of the more prominent donors—aka Purebloods, as Hermione had discovered at her first gala last year. Still, it wasn't all bad. She got an excuse to break out a fancy dress, eat good food, and catch up with Harry and Ron and some of the others that were out in the "real world", not working at the school as she was.

 _Too bad you don't "work" like Neville and Pansy._ Hermione shushed herself and forced her attention back to her classroom. It needed to sparkle and shine when the donors came through. The Board of Governors were a different set than when Hermione had been a student at Hogwarts, so they hadn't objected to her Muggle-born status. No, their primary objection had been her age. But Minerva had held firm, and now it was Hermione and several other of her classmates that had taken up the roles as professors when their own had retired after the war. Still, she didn't want to appear slovenly or unqualified, so she had dedicated the next two days to cleaning.

She was leaning over the top of her stepstool to reach a cobweb when a sound at the door made her turn—too quickly, as it turned out. She felt the stool give a scary wobble and she prepared to hit the floor, but the floor never came. Instead, she felt two large hands settle on her hips and a familiar voice say "Whoa there."

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding. "Thanks, Neville. You caught me just in time."

"Anytime," he replied, continuing to hold her while the stool regained its original position. Hermione could feel the warmth of his body nearly pressed against her legs and bum. Surely he would let her go any moment now. Then, he said with amusement, "You know you could have just Vanished it, right?"

"Yes, but then I would've missed this chance to be bent over a stool by my schoolgirl crush," she quipped. Then she slapped her hand over her mouth. "Er, I mean..."

"Schoolgirl crush, hmm?" Neville asked, rubbing one hand in a small circle on her hip. "I think I like the sound of that, Ms. Granger."

"Uh..." Hermione's mind raced. Was he flirting with her? That couldn't be. Three days ago he'd told her the odd reaction she'd had to him in his room would fade. Surely that meant he was just teasing her now, right? Right. Except...

"So you have a thing for professors, then? Or just me?" More small circles over her hips. He also stepped closer, pressing his body against hers as he leant over to whisper in her ear. "Because I might have had a school-age crush on you, too, but those feelings don't even come close to what I feel when I think about being disciplined by _Professor_ Granger. Ma'am."

Hermione's knees buckled as desire washed through her, and Neville caught her with an arm around her middle. "Easy there," he murmured, setting her upright and backing away. His gaze bore into hers consideringly. "Find me at the gala," he said finally, smiling almost shyly as he backed towards her door.

"I..." Hermione didn't even know what was wrong with her mouth right now, but she couldn't seem to get her tongue unstuck. She watched Neville turn and exit her classroom, then she stumbled over to a chair and sat in a daze. Had he—did they—but then— _What was that?_

Two hours later, Hermione was still sitting there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

Hermione took a sip of her Whizzing Fizzbomb as she eyed the Gala crowd. Everyone was turned out in their finest attire, herself no exception. The form-fitting black satin dress was fairly modest from the front, but the back dipped into a vee so low she'd had to rely on charms and spells rather than undergarments to keep it in place. _I wonder if Neville will..._ Hermione shook herself firmly and reminded her unruly libido, _again_ , that there was no reason to think that Neville was as interested as she thought he was. _Except that he told you to find him tonight,_ her inner seductress pointed out.

Her gaze landed on Neville and Pansy talking at the far side of the room. Pansy had on a deep blue strapless gown that flaunted her figure, and Neville's formal attire combined with slight scruff made him look like quite the rogue. The way their heads were bent together looked so intimate that Hermione was instantly reminded of the other intimate activities she'd witnessed them involved with. Taking a gulp of her bubbly drink for fortitude, she wove through the crush until she'd reached them.

"Good evening," she greeted them, proud of the way her voice didn't waver at all.

"Hey, Hermione," Neville replied easily. "We were just talking about you."

"I—er—you were?" Hermione felt her face flush and wished she could pull her wand out to cast a cooling charm. Honestly, they kept the temperatures so warm in here with all the guests. She really ought to speak to someone about that—

"I was giving Longbottom some pointers. You know—for later." Pansy grinned wickedly and Hermione's stomach sank.

"Be nice, Pans," Neville urged the Slytherin. "Hermione isn't quite sure about us yet."

"Us?!" Hermione nearly choked on the drink she'd just sipped. Her eyes snapped wildly back and forth between Pansy and Neville.

"Oh, no, darling. He meant you're not sure about sleeping with him yet. Although, if you two are game later, I could be persuaded." Pansy looked Hermione over critically, then nodded. "You're not as much of a prude as I thought, Granger, or you wouldn't have worn that dress."

Oddly, Hermione felt a strange sense that Pansy Parkinson had just complimented her. Frowning slightly, she tried to keep up with the conversation and its implications. "So Neville told you about earlier? In my classroom?"

Pansy's eyebrows shot up and she looked at Neville. "No, he did _not._ " Then she turned back to Hermione. "I'll let Neville fill you in on our relationship later. But suffice it to say, you aren't invading my territory, if that's what you're worried about."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut again. She really had no idea what was going on here.

Thankfully, Neville jumped back in. "What she's trying to say is that she's been teaching me about being dominant. It's just sex, nothing else."

Now Hermione's mouth did fall open. "Why—but you—"

"Wow. Granger, speechless twice in one night. That's got to be a record." Pansy grabbed her own flute of Whizzing Fizzbomb from a passing waiter and drank half of it in one go. "Here, Granger, want to see? Neville, why don't you spank her."

It wasn't a question but a command. Hermione yelped "What?" right as Neville asked, "Here?"

"What's your issue, Granger? The exhibitionism?" Pansy pulled out her wand and quickly cast a Notice-Me-Not charm. "There. Neville, spank her."

As Neville took a step closer, Hermione hurried to end this surreal encounter. "I really don't think—ooh!"

Neville's palm landed smartly on the round part of her arse, firmly but not hard enough to sting. He came to stand directly behind her, whispering, "Still want me to ruffle you up a bit?" into her ear. Then he landed a smack to the other side of her bum, and Hermione jumped.

"Uh, listen. As—um, _enlightening_ —as this has been, I think I see Harry over by the door..."

She practically ran to the loo, certain her face was as red as a Weasley ever was. She glanced back only once, to see Pansy smirking and Neville eyeing her backside with a distinct look of desire.

After splashing some water on her face, pacing about as she rehashed the previous ten minutes, and generally having a bit of a meltdown, Hermione finally had herself back under control. It would take more than Pansy Parkinson's goading and Neville's surprising willingness to submit to fluster the stoic Hermione Granger, thankyouverymuch.

She was logical.

Rational.

Completely and totally—aroused. _Bloody hell!_

Another few minutes of pacing and she was at least prepared to show her face in the Gala again. Although she would steer clear of Pansy and Nev—

"Ooomph!" Of course, she ran smack into Professor Longbottom himself as soon as she exited the retiring room. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she offered coolly.

"It's my fault. I wanted to make sure I caught you. Are you alright?" When Hermione didn't respond right away, Neville pressed on. "Pansy can be brash, but she really does mean well. She knows I've fancied you forever and she's just been trying to help me, erm, improve myself."

"Improve? Oh, Neville, you're perfectly fine as you are." Hermione started to place a hand on his arm, then whipped it away. "That is, you're quite fancy-able. Without all the, um, spanking." She practically whispered the last word, her eyes darting around the hallway to make sure they were alone.

Neville gripped her elbow and tugged her into an alcove at the end of the hall, away from any prying eyes. "So you don't like the spanking?" he asked earnestly.

Hermione felt her nipples tighten. "I do. I mean—I would. Perhaps. Not in front of an entire Gala. Actually—" she took a deep breath and forcibly relaxed her tensed shoulders, "let me start over. I, Hermione Granger, fancy you, Neville Longbottom, exactly like you are." She tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "Spanking or not. Only..." She paused, not sure how to articulate what was worrying her.

"You can tell me." Neville cupped her chin and kept her face turned towards him. "We're going to sleep together, after all," he added impishly.

His hopeful expression startled a laugh out of her. "Aren't you the cocky one, Professor?" she teased.

Neville's eyes dropped to her lips then. "I like when you call me Professor," he murmured, "but I think I like calling _you_ Professor even more."

Hermione leant back against the cool stone wall, not entirely sure her legs would continue to hold her up anymore. "That can be arranged," she managed. Then the anxiety returned. "But Neville, I—I don't think I can be the dominant. Not like Pansy."

He pressed up against her, crowding her against the wall. "So Hermione Granger likes to submit, does she?" he asked, the look in his eyes turning instantly from jovial to lustful.

"I don't know?" Hermione's breaths came faster as the scent of Neville's cologne swamped her and his erection pressed against her belly. "I don't have a lot of experience..."

Neville grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head with one of his. The other hand slid down her neck to her breast, squeezing possessively, before moving down to cup her arse and bringing her more solidly against him. He put his lips to her neck just below her jaw, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. "Let me teach you then. Professor."

He continued to lick and suck his way around her face and neck, fondling her derriere all the while. His other hand released hers in order to massage her breast through her gown, plucking at the nipple when it beaded beneath the fabric. Finally, he brought his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with a desperate need that made her weak with desire. She let her arms fall around his neck, securing him to her. They kissed for several moments while his hands roamed freely over her body. Then he pressed a palm against her mons and leaned back just far enough to see her eyes.

"Are you wet?" he rasped.

"Gods yes," Hermione practically moaned.

"Then you're enjoying submitting. At least to me. Come to my rooms in five minutes," he ordered her, stepping away and shooting her a grin over his shoulder. "And thank you for not wearing any knickers."

Hermione remained there, supported by the wall and gaping like a fish, for the first two of her five minutes. Then she straightened and patted down her hair, hoping she didn't look as thoroughly mussed as she felt. She didn't have much time to make it to Neville's rooms, especially if anyone in the Gala tried to waylay her. Hurrying out of the hallway, she nearly plowed into Harry.

"Hi Hermione—"

"I'm sorry, Harry, no time!" she called, trying to brush past her friend.

But Harry grabbed her hand and wheeled her about. "Are you okay? You look flushed," he said, a note of concern creeping into his tone.

"Fine, just fine! But I really do have to go—"

Harry frowned. "Do you need me to come with you? If you're sick, I can—"

"Potter. There you are." Pansy draped a companionable arm around Harry's shoulders. "Come settle a bet for us, will you? Draco heard you've got a hippogriff tattooed on your chest but I'm not buying it." She slowly but firmly led Harry away, winking over their shoulders at Hermione. "And the last time he lost a bet to me, he never paid up, said there were 'no witnesses' or some rubbish..."

"Thank you, Pansy!" Hermione whispered as she wove through the crowd as quickly and unobtrusively as she could. Once she'd gained the empty hallway to the staircase, she let out a breath of relief. She skidded to a stop outside Neville's room with less than a minute to go on his self-imposed limit. Neville opened the door and gestured for her to come in, smiling in the lopsided way that Hermione was finding so attractive of late.

Stepping inside, Hermione glanced around. Nothing had changed since the last time she'd been here, except of course for the lack of copulating couple on the chaise. Seeming to understand her hesitation, Neville filled her vision and reached behind her to shut the door. Then he pressed her up against the solid wood and kissed her, and all her other thoughts fled. He angled his head and deepened their kiss, growling appreciatively when Hermione slid her tongue against his. He grabbed her hips and lifted her, carrying her easily across his quarters and into his bedchamber.

Neville set her down by his bed, sliding her slowly down his body. "Take your dress off," he said, his voice catching. He wouldn't look her in the eyes, and Hermione had the sudden feeling that he was nearly as uncertain how to proceed as she was. They'd known each other for years, after all, and yet tonight they would become much more acquainted.

An idea occurred to Hermione. Impishly, she shook her head. "Why don't you make me?" she asked.

A large grin broke out on Neville's face, followed by a look of intensity. "Is that how it's going to be, Professor Granger? Very well." Neville pulled out his wand and pointed it at her dress, sending it flying over her head and across the room, leaving her clad in naught but her heels and jewelry. That simple act seemed to give him all the confidence he needed, for now he looked over her with an assessing air. Hermione felt her nipples pebble and she watched Neville's eyes zero in on them. "Touch your tits for me," he said, beginning to undo his necktie.

Hermione moaned and did as he asked. Neville tossed the tie onto the floor and began unbuttoning his cufflinks as though he had all the time in the world. Hermione's hands stilled as she watched, mesmerized by the sight. Once he was done with the cufflinks, he moved to the buttons on his shirt. Then he seemed to think of something else. "Come here," he murmured. "You do it."

Hermione stepped forward immediately and undid the top button, glancing up at Neville briefly before moving on to the second. "You know, I think I do like submitting," she told him. "I make so many decisions during the day—it feels amazing to have you tell me what to do now." She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled the hem from the waistline of his pants. Then she reached for his belt buckle.

"No. Get on the bed," Neville commanded her. Hermione clambered onto the bed as gracefully as she could manage, then knelt and watched him expectantly. But Neville was having none of it. "Turn around and get on all fours."

Moaning, she did, and she was rewarded soon after with a light smack to her arse. "Yes," she whimpered.

Neville smacked her again, a bit more firmly this time, then ran his hand down one leg and up the inside of the other, his fingers coming to rest over her pussy. "I can tell you like being dominated," he said as he rubbed his hand over her, spreading her wetness around. Hermione only moaned in agreement. His hands left her, and Hermione heard the sound of his shoes and belt hitting the floor. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Neville dropped his trousers and kicked them aside. "I'd ask you if you liked what you saw, but your dripping wet quim is answering that question for me."

"Oh my god, Neville," Hermione gasped. "I had no idea you had such a dirty—ooooh."

He'd removed his pants as well and stepped up behind her, rubbing her clit with his cock. His hands came around to fondle her breasts, kneading and squeezing while he shallowly thrust his erection against her folds. "More, please, oh more," Hermione begged him. "Neville, I need you _now!_ "

"I'll fuck you when I'm ready. For that matter, you'll come only when I tell you to," Neville told her. But he took pity on her, sheathing himself inside her with one smooth thrust. Hermione nearly came on the spot. "Ah ah," Neville reminded her with a sharp slap to her bum, "when I tell you." And then he started fucking her in earnest. Hermione gripped his bedspread and widened her knees as he plunged into her again and again, occasionally whacking her bottom as he did so.

"Neville, please, I'm so close!" Hermione cried. The sharpness of the slaps mingled with the pleasure of his thrusts and Hermione fought off her rapidly building climax.

Neville withdrew and flipped her onto her back, immediately climbing atop her and thrusting in again. They locked eyes, and Hermione felt her inner muscles clench as Neville looked at her with complete possessiveness. He pressed her legs up, gripping her knees as he opened her further to him. "Ready?" he panted. In reply, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and rose up to meet his next thrust.

That did it for Neville. The next thing she knew, he was pistoning into her and urging her on, telling her what a good girl she was. "Come, Hermione!" he shouted, reaching one hand down to flick over her clit. She screamed her release as Neville thrust into her once, twice more. Then he fell on top of her, both of them breathing hard.

Several long minutes later, Neville rolled off of her. As rationality returned, Hermione wondered what the next step was. Should she ask him if she was allowed to wash off? Did he expect her to wait for his instruction? Should she kiss him? She just wasn't sure what the proper procedure was.

As if he could read her mind, Neville rolled up onto one side and propped his head on his hand. "It's just regular you and me now." He smiled at her and it was that expression—the shy one she was accustomed to—that really set her at ease.

"Oh, just regular you? Guess I'll be going then." Hermione pretended to sit up, laughing when Neville pulled her back down and tucked him beneath her. She looped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "So, Mr. Longbottom, did screwing your professor live up to the hype?"

"You have no idea," he growled, sliding his hands over her breasts again. "Although I might have to try it in your classroom to get the full effect."

"That sounds intriguing," Hermione agreed. "As for me, I want to see Pansy."

Neville practically choked. " _What?_ Don't tell me you're actually thinking about a threesome—"

"I was thinking that I wanted to thank her profusely," Hermione explained. Then she grinned and shoved Neville's shoulder, rolling them until she was on top. "But if you're game, I'm certainly—"

A stinging smack to her bottom shut her up before she could finish, and then Neville kept her much too busy to discuss it again anytime soon.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry that the title for this piece is so horrid. I racked my brain and couldn't come up with anything else. Also, a Neville Pansy Hermione threesome is probably going to be my next obsession for the time being! If you know of any good ones, please tell me...**


End file.
